


Walk On

by old_chatterhand



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson has a cane, Feelschat, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_chatterhand/pseuds/old_chatterhand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson is alive and (mostly) well - he'll just have to use a cane for a while, his doctor says. <br/>Phil is unhappy. Tony sees opportunities. Clint has resources.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk On

**Author's Note:**

> All of Feelschat are enablers. This was caused by about seven seconds of footage from the Agents of SHIELD TV series, two of which where of Coulson. We don't even know whether or not he uses a cane. Oh well.

“A cane?”

The doctor in charge scribbles something on a slip of paper and tucks it into Coulson’s medical file.

“Yes. It will help to reduce the strain on your injured muscles, specifically chest and back. If you walked without an aid of some kind at your current stage of healing, it would immensely slow down recovery and might even lead to long-term handicap.”

Great. Phil rubs his face and tries to suppress a sigh (sighing hurts). A cane. Not only will he be on desk duty for the foreseeable future, alternating with PT, but he’ll also have to endure the endless Dr House jokes, everyone will undoubtedly come up with. Not to mention it’ll make him feel old. Next thing he knows, he’ll probably be chasing kids off his lawn and complain how ‘everything was better in the past’.

Right now, he feels that sentiment, actually. In the past, he was Fury’s right hand man and one good eye out in the field. Now, though...

***

Fury proposes they could paint flames on the cane.

“Makes you look faster.”

Phil only doesn’t punch him in the face because Steve (Captain America!) already did that when it was announced that Phil actually was only mostly dead and got better.

The first meeting with the assembled Avengers doesn’t go much better.

“That is a cane. You have a cane now.”

Stark swivels in his chair to watch him limb past to the head of the table. Phil tries very hard to ignore him and not break his new walk-aid over the idiot’s head.

“Agent Agent has a cane now. Does it shoot lasers? Ooooh, no, I know! A tazer! Tazercane! And stick fighting! Do you know Bartitsu? Or Escrima?”

“Escrima is fought with two sticks of about arms length and now kindly shut up, Mr Stark,” Phil grits out.

“Hanbōjutsu then. Come on, Coulson, don’t tell me you don’t have every inch of that thing equipped with tricks and gimmicks. SHIELD did come up with all those ridiculous trick-arrows Barton uses-”

“Hey!” Barton throws a pen at Tony, who just ignores it.

“- you can’t tell they let you out with at least some degree of Inspector Gadget-ness.”

Phil hopes no one sees how his fingers clench hard enough around the handle that his knuckles whiten. He won’t let Stark get to him. He won’t.

“Tony.” Stark turns around to look at Bruce, who is cleaning his glasses with the edge of his shirt. “Shut up.”

Phil doesn’t exactly know what went down between the two of them, but since that thing with the Mandarin, Stark and Banner have become even closer. Right now this means that Stark actually lets go of the issue and they can commence with the meeting. Phil nods at Bruce as thanks.

***

A week after that, Hawkeye has come to Phil’s office bearing gifts, apparently.

“I thought you might like it, sir.” Barton is obviously trying not to fidget.

Phil stares at the content of the long, slim box on his desk and fights with the avalanche of emotions that’s threatening to overwhelm him. On the dark green velvet lies a sleek black cane with a silver handle. The whole thing oozes wealth and power as if it was stolen right out of Lucius Malfoy’s hand from the Harry Potter movies. It’s the complete opposite of the clinical, grey plastic thing that’s leaning against one of Phil’s many filing cabinets and which Phil hates. Hates with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

“It also can...” Barton takes the cane out of the box, fiddles around at the head until there is a barely audible ‘click’ and then slides out a honest to god sword blade. It’s thin and polished steel and Phil knows that audible sharpness is a thing from the movies, but by god, if any blade should possess that trait, this one would be the one.

Barton waves it around for a moment - very carefully - and then slides it back into its sheath. He twists the cane around between his flat palms a few times before he looks up at Phil again.

“I know Tony annoyed you with his suggestions and you don’t want to admit you might have a weakness although it’s only temporary anyway, but... Uhm.” He trails off, but after a second starts again. “You could always spread the rumour that it was made from the iron of your enemies’ blood. Like Vetinari’s. Sir. Put some fear into the baby agents. Uhm. You’re not saying much?”

Phil blinks. Then very carefully and very slowly he pushes himself up out of his chair and onto his feet, steps around his desk. He holds out his left hand and Barton immediately passes over the new cane. It’s the perfect length and weight, the handle cool and smooth in his hand.

“Well, Agent Barton, I think it’s time to take some fencing lessons, don’t you?”

Barton grins and falls into step besides Phil. “I know a few bits of irish stick fighting from back at the circus, sir. You interested?”

Phil smiles.


End file.
